A Teenage Assassin Executing Some Fun
by Addsername
Summary: A story about the saint as a high schooler. Won't be a one-shot if I ever remember to update it. A little bit of SaintJesus possibly slash as the story progresses. Rated T for Jimmy being Jimmy and all the stuff that goes along with that. I reviews!
1. What's Worth Fighting For

"James Vincent! Get your sorry, tired little ass out of bed RIGHT NOW."

Uaghhh. It was Jay. My pathetic, controlling, pain-in-the-sorry-tired-ass stepfather Jay.

I really didn't want to get out of bed. I rolled over, put my pillow over my head, and closed my eyes, willing myself to go back to sleep.

I heard a click as the handle to my door slowly turned as the door was thrust open.

Crap. I forgot to lock that before I went to bed last night. Good thing Jay wasn't in a particularly bad mood or god knows what kind of shit would've gone down.

"JAMES THE FUCKING VINCENT. GET OUT OF BED BEFORE I COME OVER THERE AND FUCKING DRAG YOU."

Auhhhhguhhh. I'm so comfortable. Please don't make me move. Please don't make me get up.

Light streamed in as Jay flung open the heavy wooden blinds, stinging my tired eyes.

"JAMES, I WILL COUNT TO TEN AND IF YOU'RE NOT UP BY THE TIME I COUNT TO TEN, SHIT WILL HIT THE FAN."

Wow. Ten. I didn't know he could count that high. Groaning, I rolled over and sat up, sharp rays of sun streaming directly into my eyes, searing my brain. I felt Jay's heavy glare directly through me as I kicked my legs to the side of my bed and pulled myself up, stretching my arms above my head. Jay stood by my door, tapping his foot impatiently.

Ahem, some privacy please?

He finally got the idea and trudged over to the door, slamming it in his wake. "Be down for breakfast in five, or else crazy shit's gonna happen, got it?

Sure. Whatever, Jay. I don't take that long to get ready in the morning. I'm not a fucking girl. I stretched my arms one more time before scampering over to my stereo and shuffling through my iPod until I found a song that I wouldn't mind listening to. I hit play as The Clash blasted through my speakers, sending syncopated vibrations through our cheap home's thin walls. I pulled on an inky AC/DC tee shirt with numerous rips, snags, and threads modifying the sleeves. My expert fashion sense urged me to pair it wish destroyed, raven-colored jeans and a midnight black drawstring hood. I finished off the fashion statement with a pair of charcoal Chuck Taylors.

Same as every day.

Shuffling over to my bathroom, I quickly brushed my teeth and splashed some cold water on my face to wake me up. Sure, I needed a shower, but that wasn't to say I couldn't go one more day. I smelled like a man. Staring at my reflection, I filled my palm with a dollop of hair gel and ran it through my jet-black hair, forming it into numerous tiny spikes. Throwing the open bottle of gel onto the bathroom counter, I hi-tailed it to the door, being extra-sure to lock it on the way out. I walked out into the kitchen as the air was filled with the mouth-watering aroma of bacon. I immediately began to salivate, however before I could quiet my Pavlov's Dog-like response, my pleasant bacon fantasy was silenced by a stronger, far less pleasant aroma: Eau de Jay. I coughed and wheezed, trying my best to block out the awful smell of old cigarettes and cheap drugstore cologne. I really couldn't stand this guy. What my mom saw in him, I would never be sure. If Jay had it his way, the pair would be living in a cozy little trailer in Rancho Mirage while I rotted at military school. Thankfully, my mom had convinced him to let me hang around for one more year before it was time for me to head off to college- or hitchhike my way up to Canada- probably the latter. Jay, that asshole, he neglected to save me any bacon. Shrugging it off, I grabbed a twenty off the counter, along with my backpack, and headed out the door without bothering to say goodbye. My mother had probably left for work already, and god knows Jay wouldn't care if I neglected to bid him farewell.

I hopped into my beat-up '87 Chevy, jamming the keys in the ignition and turning them sharply, revving the dying engine. To my chagrin, nothing happened.

Jay threw open the door, shaking his fist at me: "Could you please shut the fuck up, kid! Some of us are trying to enjoy our bacon in peace. Jesus, kids these days. They just have no respect. No fucking respect at all."

Trying the ignition one more time, I turned my keys and pressed my Converse-clad foot to the gas.

It wouldn't start.

Damnit.

I slid out of the driver's seat, slung my bag over my shoulder, and trudged down to the street to the 7-11 on the corner where I could use the pay phone. I didn't have any reason to own a cell phone, and no way in hell was I about to ask Jay for a ride. Not that he would give one to me if I asked. I pulled a quarter from my pocket, shoved it in the slot, and dialed my brah Christian. Lucky for me, he picked up. "Hey man, whaddaya need?" His voice relieved some of my tension, reminding me that I could actually rely on a few people around here. "Hey Chris, I need a ride. The ol' piece of crap (read: car) won't start and I'm not about to ask Jay for a ride. I'm at the 7-11 on Christie and Adeline." Christian agreed to drive me before promptly hanging up, both of us preferring to keep our phone conversations short. I popped inside the small convenience store and grabbed a hot dog and a cherry slurpie, not bothering to pay for either as the cashier grunted in protest but made no effort to stop me. I sat down on the single bench outside, drawing a cigarette from my backpack and rummaging around my pocket for a lighter before I remembered that Brad confiscated mine last week. Thankfully, Christian pulled up soon thereafter, throwing open the door to his beat-up Yugo and patting the passenger seat, implying I should plant my ass there so we can head to school. We were already late, but I didn't care much. Worst-case scenario, we'll have to collect tardy slips from one of the pinched-faced secretaries and I'll get a slap on the wrist from Jay wen I get home.

I slammed the door to the car and took a sizable bite out of my hot dog, washing it down with the slurpie's refreshingly artificial taste. "Breakfast of champions", I announced, my mouth still full of partially-chewed up hot dog. "Ew, man, that's gross", Christian commented, but I ignored him. "The fuck are you, my mother?" I challenged, as Christian replied with a playful punch and continued to drive, offering me a light as we merged lanes and sped off on our way.


	2. Crying Over a Gun For Hire

**Hi guys! So I actually got around to updating this story. What a novel concept! Heh, heh... Novel concept. So punny. So anyway, it came to my attention that I accidentally called Jay "Brad" in the last chapter. My bad, I guess I was thinking Johnny instead of Jimmy. D'aww well. Life goes on. So this chapter is probably going to be a little short since my term paper's due in 2 days and i've kind of put it off... it's just so easy to get distracted by all these new pictures from An Early History of Fire popping up everywhere. Don't get me wrong, school is important to me. But so are never-before seen photos of Theo Stockman. That's all, I'll let you read the story now. Don't forget to review!**

A tiny fly buzzed around the dank inside of Christian's crappy-assed Yugo as we pulled into the school parking lot. Even though the drive from my suburban house to my city school was long, it sure as hell wasn't long enough. I didn't want to go to class today. Really, what was that important that I had to get up at 6 in the morning to learn it. We're not dealing with the Cuban Missile Crisis here. Seriously, it's just freaking public school curriculum. Excuse me while I go bleach my asshole. Clearly, academics weren't my forte. To be honest, neither were social skills. Meh, social skills. Speak of the devil. Just as I stepped out of the car, I was dive-bombed by my buddy Theo. Theo is pretty much the only person I can think of that has less social skills than I do. Needless to say, Chris and I love 'im anyway. The three of us have been inseprable since frosh year. When some "gun for hire" named Gloria broke it off with Chris and he wound up with his heart broken, Theo and I were there. When... Oh wait. Speak of the devil. Who should be parked next to us but Gloria, the gun for hire herself.

Shielding Christian from the evil that we call "his ex", we sulked into school, splitting off to go to our lockers and assembling back together again for US History. The three seats on the far left in the last row are ours, and nobody else is gonna dare sit there unless they want their ass turned inside out. We take our seats just as Mrs. Nesser takes her place, a disgruntled looking boy standing next to her. He's probably about five foot ten, with messy brown hair framing his pale, slightly exasperated face. His almond-shaped chocolate eyes were framed in rings of smoky eyeliner, smudged just so. His facial features were so perfect- paired with his lean frame, this kid looked like every other lacrosse-jock prep at our school. The only things setting him apart from the Abercrombie-wearing man clones that seemed to rule the beaurocracy called Pinole High were his outfit: black skinny jeans and a faded gray Guns n' Roses tee, and his eyeliner. I couldn't get over that eyeliner. The way it surrounded his perfect chestnut eyes... Oh god. I AM NOT GAY. I'm not gay. I glanced over at... what's her name again? The one hot vigilante chick that sits in the second row? Oh right. Rebecca. I glanced over at Rebecca just to be sure I wasn't going insane. Nope, she was still hot. Still had the same playful look in her lavender eyes as always, still had the same fat purple streak running through her touchable, bouncy hair. I lost myself in her violaceous eyes, but something was missing from their constantly questioning gaze: she too was staring at the new kid.

Mrs. Nesser sat down on top of her desk, picked up a yardstick, and pointed it at the boy as though she were afraid to touch him.

"This, class, is Johnny."

**A'ight, that's the end, I couldn't think of a good name for the teacher so I sort of used Adrienne's maiden name... oh well. And also, I goofed at the beginning when I said no SaintJesus. The way the story's coming along, I defnintely want some SaintJesus. That's all! Review if you want more :)**


	3. Tales From Another Broken Home

**Sorry the last chapter was so short. As I said, I had a term paper and all that good stuff. So I'm done with the term paper and hopefully I'll be able to update pretty consistently now! I really like where the plot is going with some of the imminent SaintJesus stuff, so I'm going to try to keep going in that direction. Enjoy and pretty please, review!**

Johnny. The new kid's name was Johnny.

He stared out into the sea of desks, scanning for an empty seat to take. Suddenly, his eyes settled on the fourth desk from the left in the very last row.

The desk next to mine.

He strolled to the back of the room, making a point to look apathetic and uninterested in whatever blah fucking blah Mrs. Nesser had to say. There was a mischievous look in his sorrel eyes as he took his seat and pulled a carmine notebook from his bag. Scrawled in black sharpie on the torn cover was a single phrase that sent shivers up my spine.

_I'm the son of rage and love._

I glanced over at Johnny and pointed at his notebook, a curious look worn on my alabaster face. He raised one eyebrow playfully before answering. "Oh? That? That's just… Nothing. It's just… my family is weird. Y'know, tales from another broken home. Blah blah. You probably don't care."

His voice was deep and gravelly, yet sexily playful at the same time.

Oh my god. I'm not gay. I'm not gay.

I glanced over at Rebecca again. She caught my gaze and playfully waved at me with three fingers, gazing at me with her ludicrous lavender eyes.

Okay. She's pretty hot. I'm not gay.

I glanced back at Johnny. "Of course I care. I'm Jimmy by the way. You can call me Jimmy, Saint, whatever you want."

He eyed me playfully. "Saint, huh? What'd you do to earn that title?"

I caught his glance with the same challenging look in my eyes. "That, my young disciple, is a story for another time. So you were telling me: Tales from another broken home?"

"Oh, that. I just… my dad died a couple years ago. My mom's remarried, but it's just not the same. My stepdad's kind of a…" Johnny glanced away as he trailed off, breaking our gaze. I was speechless, I didn't even know how to respond. I sat silently, staring at my converse-clad feet.

Johnny's sabulous voice broke the silence. "Sorry, man. Did I, like… offend you or something? I'm real sorry."

I was shocked. I couldn't even believe it. "Wha? Aw. No. Not at all. Actually, it's… well…"

I paused. Looked away and broke the tension. Glanced back again as Johnny questioned me silently, reading my expression, begging me to continue.

"It's just that the exact same thing happened to me. My dad died when I was twelve. My mom remarried this asshole named Jay. He's… indescribable. But I hate him. I hate him with a burning passion. He tried to ship me off to military school, but my mom wouldn't have any of it. Thankfully, she kept me around, but Jay's not going anywhere either."

Johnny's mouth fell open with an audible snap. "Whoa, man…Saint… that's crazy. Mine's Brad. The other day, that brute threatened to skin me alive. He's unbearable. It's come to a point where I'm forasmuch as running away. My life isn't going anywhere. I got kicked out of my old school for…"

Again, he trailed off. Mrs. Nesser gave me the death stare, willing me to pay attention as she poked and prodded an ancient looking map with her favorite yardstick. She gave me one last good glare, letting Johnny off scott-free for his first offense. I kicked Christian gently under the table and he punched me back playfully. Theo poked him to pay attention. They both snuck glances at Johnny periodically, sizing up the new dog in the fight. Mrs. Nesser continued to preach to us whatever about whatever about wherever and whoever… and the guy. The guy who said the words. Mrs. Nesser taught her heart out as I stared off into the distance, my mind everywhere but there.

**So! That's the end of this chapter! Again, I realize it's a little short. I wasn't really feeling inspired to add much more. I hope you enjoyed it! Review, por favor! **

**Thanks! -Addsername**


	4. As Autumn's Wind Fades Into Black

The rest of the day was a blur. Same old teachers-preaching-blah-fuckity-blah until 2:30, at which point the bell sounded and everyone streamed out of the school, eager to be anywhere but there. Theo, Christian and I seated ourselves on a bench on the quad, pulling cigarettes from our bags as Christian produced a lighter from his. We sat and smoked in silence, each of us usually a man of few words. We got a few funny stares for our violation of the "no tobacco on school property" rule, but nobody did anything to enforce it. People stared, shrugged, and walked past us. Cascades of people streamed from the building, heading off to their cars and their real lives. The throngs of people finally began to clear out and assemble with their chosen cliques, the fresh meat waiting for a ride home. Christian produced a burger, still wrapped in McDonald's printed paper, from his bag, taking a large bite. "Hey brah, where'd you get that?" I asked. "My bag", he challenged. "No, seriously man. Like, I want one." Christian's expression softened. "Ah. I skipped fifth period and ran to Mickey D's. Couldn't take my hunger a minute longer. You know how us growing kids are..." "Christian's a fatty...", Theo teasingly interjected. Christian whapped him playfully. "Hey man, watch it. I don't appreciate this allegation about the size of my ass." I chuckled. Theo snorted. I was surprised to hear a gravelly laugh coming from the hoard of people. I looked up to see Johnny standing before us, his angelic face sporting a smirk as well as a single raised eyebrow. "Eh man. I'll take an extra burger any day of the week", he remarked. I simpered as Chris and Theo poked each other incessantly.

Gah.

Johnny was clever, too. I could tell this kid wasn't the average disciple.

"Hey, Johnny, you wanna come hang out with us?" Theo asked.

Seriously. I can't believe he just asked that.

Not that I'm angry or anything...

"Aye, man, that'd be fun." he cordially responded. I tried to restrain a smile. Christian put out his cigarette and we trudged off to his Yugo, Theo and Johnny cramming into the tiny, awkwardly-shaped backseat. Christian tried the ignition as the old, tired engine revved, but nothing happened.

Just fucking great.

Theo groaned before turning the key and pressing the gas one more time...

Oh god yes. The engine wheezed substantially, but it started nonetheless. We drove to 7-11, mostly in silence.

**A/N sorry about the third extremely short chapter in a row. I figured that a small update was better than nothing. I've just been really busy lately with my term paper and such... guess what my topic is: propaganda in music! You know what that means... ! **

**Anyway, I promise the next chapter will be exponentially than these last few. As always, I love reviews! **

**~Addsername**


	5. East Jesus Nowhere

**LOOK GUYS, I FINALLY UPDATED! My sincerest apologies for taking so long to update. I've taken a leeetle leave of absence from , but I'M BAAAACK, AND I'M STILL FABULOUS. Mwah! **

**Disclaimer: Nope. Not my characters. Not the brainchild of le me. **

**Enjoy!**

As Christian's piece-of-shit Yugo hit the highway, Theo cranked the music. AC/DC blared through the car's beat-up speakers, guitar riffs hanging in the air as thick as the stench of cigarettes. But despite the car's raucous environment, an awkward silence weighed in the air.

"So, Johnny... Tell us your life story. Explain to us the musings of your mind"

Leave it to Theo to ask the new kid for his 'life story' not a day after we've met him. Talk about coming on too strong. I tried to interject and salvage the conversation.

"Sorry man. What he means is... Where 'ya from? Didn't mean to get all existential on ya there."

Johnny, of course, took the conversation in stride.

"Oh man, it's totally cool. So. My life story. Well, before Pinole, I was at Oakland South. I had some... drug problems. Nothing big, but enough to build myself a nasty reputation."

Drug problems. This kid's hardcore.

"But that's not my life story, per se. That doesn't even begin to define me," he continued.

"I have some issues at home. My dad's gone and my stepdad-"  
"BRAD", I cut him off, eager to discuss a topic so personal to my own situation.

"Right, Brad. My stepdad, he's a dick. But he's good to my mom. As long as she's happy... I'm not the one who marri-"

"WE'RE HEEEEEeeeeeEEEEERE!", Christian singsonged satirically, motioning for us to pile out of the car. "Johnny, welcome to Jingletown's finest", he mused, displaying the dank gas station as though it were the Taj mahal. A smile spread across Johnny's face, illuminating those eyes of his.

"You know what this means, fellas? RAMEN!"

Theo's face instantly lit up like a kid in a candy store. "Oh sweet gods of chicken-flavored goodness, unleash your noodley goodness upon us."

I slapped Theo's arm cautioningly. "Watch it, we've got a new desciple. Try to chill it, 'kay?"

Theo instantly looked hurt. "Jeez, man. Since when do you give a fuck what people think of you?"

Shit. He was right. What made this new kid different from all the other prep-clones at Pinole? I had lived my whole life in defiance of conformity, and now one pretty boy can bat his lashes at me and suddenly I'm vying for his approval?! Damn, I thought. I've really let myself go on this one. I took a couple quick breaths before meandering over to the snack aisle and grabbing a stack of Cup O'Noodles, shuffling out the door without even bothering to pay. "Hey! Aren't you going to-", the cashier inquired with a start, but Christian promptly shut him down. "Nope. Have a nice day!"

Brushing off one of the green metal benches outside, I began to sit down. "Gentlemen, our dinner awaits", I drawled, motioning for my friends to sit down and start eating. To my chagrin, none of them did. Christian flipped his keyring around his finger nervously, Theo clinging by his side.

"Actually, man, we gotta go. We have a...prior commitment."

My face fell instantly. Sure, I could give a better shit what people think. But that doesn't mean I'm about to be abandoned outside some convenience store like a three-legged puppy. Plus, my car's beat, so I've gotta work out a ride home anyway. Fuck. A string of cuss words escaped my mouth as I stared at the ground, the sole of my Chuck Taylor grinding my cigarette butt into the ground. Until...

"Ah man, I hate to see you here alone. I can chill here with you, ifya want."

"Thanks bruh. That'd be great."

Christian and Theo revved the Yugo, pulling away. Just Johnny and I were left, eating ramen in the parking lot of a 7-11 in the middle of East Jesus Nowhere, Jingletown USA.


End file.
